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Before it was the dead of night, before the sky turned into an inky black, and before the streetlights were the only way for you to see the cobblestones and cracks of Ketterdam, Kaz Brekker was hiding in the shadows, picking a lock and cursing under his breath.
On nights like these, where the world was a little less lonely and a little less dark, the Van Eck ‘inhabitants’ (they hated when he called them that—they felt like it made them sound like zoo animals) left the backdoor unlocked. Wylan and Jesper wanted to make it easier for Kaz to come and go as he pleased while also not scaring the living daylights out of them when he appeared out of thin air. It was supposed to be a considerate thought.
Nothing offended him more.
Who do they think they are? Kaz huffed as he used his tools to lock the door again. It’d be kinder if they spat in my face. Better yet, if they tried drowning me in the canal. I’d love to see them try that.
The lock clanked.
Finally, the door was locked again, the good deed made by Wylan and Jesper undone in a few simple moves.
Good.
With grim satisfaction, Kaz took his tools out of the lock and examined it. It wouldn’t take long to unlock it again—he was a master at this and he’d done this several times—but still. Maybe I should have just left it alone. Make my life easier. The thought didn’t last long. You made your bed. Lie in it.
The lock was picked in an instant. It almost made Kaz concerned—a novice thief could easily break into Wylan and Jesper’s house if they wanted. All they had to do was pick the lock and waltz right in. Depending on their mood, the two of them might even welcome them in and offer a glass of kvas. But the concern didn’t last long—if it even existed at all. No one would be stupid enough to break into the Van Eck estate. Kaz made sure of that personally.
Quietly, Kaz turned the handle and tucked his cane under his arm, walking into the back of the house as if he had a key. He shut the door behind him, locking it as he did so, and listened very carefully.
Wylan and Jesper were in the parlor. They were laughing about something, talking in low voices while music was playing in the background. Kaz didn’t care to figure out what they were listening to. He was sure he’d find out soon enough. Besides, the reason he was here in the first place was on the second story, and he had already kept her waiting long enough.
Kaz crept through the shadows, listening to the creeks of the house as he made his way to the stairs. The two buffoons in the parlor were too busy fawning over each other to notice he was there. Disgusting.
Despite himself, he wondered if he should make some sort of noise, just to make sure they knew he was in the house out of courtesy. And to make sure Jesper didn’t shoot him in the forehead or Wylan didn’t blow him up. That too.
Besides, it’s not like they didn’t know why he was there. It didn’t take much for two idiots like them to figure out his intentions. And it’s not like they minded or didn’t expect him.
And yet… he remembered the last time they saw him at their door on a night like this. They were delighted to see him, their voices teasing and mocking and friendly. It was horrendous. Kaz would rather skin himself alive than deal with that again. They teased him like how schoolboys teased a friend about a girl he liked. Which wasn’t too far off from the truth. He hated that too much to say hello to them.
So he snuck past them.
Again, he was slightly concerned for their safety. Slightly.
Going up the stairs wasn’t a problem. His leg ached, but the feeling in his chest made the walk easier. The problem was the emptiness in his hands. He had no flowers, no jewelry—nothing. All he had on him were his gloves, which he was slipping off, and his cane, which he finally allowed himself to use when he got to the top of the stairs. It wasn’t much—as a matter of fact, it was nothing—but it was all Kaz had.
You idiot, he thought as he listened to his cane tap the ground. He made sure it was quiet enough so that Wylan and Jesper couldn’t hear it, but loud enough so that she knew who was coming. Then again, she was always just as good at sensing him as he was at sensing her.
The door at the end of the hall was slightly ajar, and light was flooding from the room into the hallway. Kaz stood in front of the door, doing his best to listen to what was behind it. Nothing. Everyone else would think that there was no one there.
But Kaz knew better.
He raised his hand to knock, standing straighter while he adjusted his grip on the head of his cane. He barely moved before a soft, familiar voice called, “come in.”
And there she was.
The source of the light and the source of the comfort.
Inej sat on her bed, her smile as radiant as the summer sun. He has seen this sight dozens of times before with multiple variations, and yet that smile, regardless of the situation, always undid him. The air became easier to breathe, and every nerve inside of Kaz became vibrant. Her bronze skin glowed in the light, and she radiated warmth and fortune. Kaz felt like he was swimming in her presence, and it made him intoxicated enough to walk towards her.
“I was wondering when I’d see you.” Kaz barely registered a word she said. He was staring at her. Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself. But he couldn’t help it. “Did you use the backdoor again?”
“Yes.” Inej was wearing her sleeping clothes, loose fitted lavender pants and a shirt that had to be tied to stay closed. It was a stark contrast to the elegant braid on her head. It kept her hair from falling over her shoulders. Kaz stared at her in wonder, doing his best to hide the look on his face (whatever that look was). “Does that surprise you?”
“No. I hope you didn’t lock it and unlock it again.” Inej took his silence as her answer, and he hoped she was oblivious to his stare. She laughed at him. “No wonder why you’re so late—you were busy making a fool of yourself.”
“I think the sea air is making you airheaded. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to,” Kaz replied with a smile. The two of them were smiling like idiots in love, and it took everything in Kaz not to shudder at the fact that that’s what they were—two people basking in each other's company while the other smiled ear to ear. It was ridiculous. And it was wonderful.
“Next time you’re on my ship, I’m throwing you overboard.”
“Try me. The ocean would spit me back out. I’m too awful for their taste buds.”
“Nonsense,” Inej said as she stood. Kaz braced himself, not out of fear, but out of elated surprise. She caressed his face gently, her skin warm to the touch. He held her hand there, watching as Inej studied him. “The ocean would spit you out because you don’t have enough meat on your bones… you look tired.”
“That happens when you’re a barrel boss.”
“Excuses, excuses…” Inej stared at Kaz’s bare hand. She did not bother hiding her joy. She didn’t have to. She removed her hand from his face and squeezed his. Kaz welcomed it openly. “You should have come here earlier.”
“I’ve missed you,” is what she was saying. And Kaz heard it loud and clear. “You saw me yesterday.”
“And?”
Kaz rolled his eyes. “Fine. I should have come here earlier. I apologize.”
Inej laughed and took a seat on her bed again. Kaz stood still, watching. “That’s better.”
Much better. Without too much thought, Kaz reached forward and twirled a stray hair that fell loose from her braid between his fingers. He loved her hair—it was always soft to the touch, softer than silk and smoother than velvet. He loved it in braids, he loved it down, he loved it with his entire body and soul.
His hands were moments from her face, and if he wanted to, he could hold the whole world in one hand. But he waited for her to react first, watching as a slow realization dawned on Inej’s face. When she looked at him, there wasn’t an ounce of disgust or repulsion anywhere—she merely smiled, loosening her hair from his hand.
“Kaz?” Inej asked.
“Hm?”
“Could you unbraid my hair?”
Ghezen only knew the type of face he was making. “Well, since you’re making me…”
She turned around, adjusting her clothes over her shoulder while Kaz stared at the back of her head. It looked like there were hundreds of braids weaving in and out of themselves, creating new pathways that Kaz had no way of hoping to map out. He could catch glimpses of clips and bands in her hair, but he had no clue where to start. He might as well have been shoved into a room blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back—but even then, he’d have a better plan than this.
“Wylan braided my hair,” Inej said, as if that made any sense to him. “He wants to practice new braids for his mother.”
“How kind of him,” Kaz said absentmindedly.
Kaz caught a corner of a smile on her face. “Did you just compliment Wylan?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And he didn’t. He was too busy trying to defuse whatever bomb her hair was. “This looks… intricate.”
“No, not really.” Kaz scoffed. “Do you need help, Brekker?”
Yes. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
Absolutely not.
“If you keep asking, I might just leave you here with this rat’s nest on your hair.”
“I thought you liked it.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You didn’t have to—I could tell.” Without looking, Inej took his hands and settled them on something metal. It must be one of the pins. “Start with those. Take all the pins out of my hair, and then go from there.”
“How am I supposed to tell where the pins are? They’re all as dark as your hair.”
“They’re metal. You can see metal, can’t you?” Kaz huffed. “Goodness—you have the eye of a thief, don’t you?”
“Inej, darling, I am a thief.”
“Then steal the pins out of my hair. It won’t be a challenge for you.”
“It won’t be a challenge for you.” Bullshit.
Biting his tongue, Kaz scanned the back of Inej’s head for any sort of metallic glint. She had a right to make fun of him, he supposed, because a giant metal pin was sticking out of her head enough for even him to see it. He took it out slowly, watching as her hair shifted and fell as the pin was released. He half expected—actually, he entirely expected—for all of the braids to collapse. Was that not how braids worked? You don’t remove one pin and then the entire thing would easily fall down? That’s what Kaz saw on the streets and in performances. Was that… not how it worked?
Inej glanced at him over her shoulder. “What’s with that face?”
“I’m not making a face.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kaz placed the free pin on the nightstand next to her bed. “Out of curiosity, how many of these pins are in your hair?”
“Why?”
“I already told you: curiosity.”
Inej’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Not a clue.”
“How… how could you not know?”
Inej turned back around, letting Kaz bask in his confusion alone. “We don’t all count how many things we have on our person at all times, Kaz. Especially when it comes to hairpins.”
“Well, if it were me, I’d count.” Kaz found another pin and plucked it out of her hair. “It’d be helpful for picking locks.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing…” Kaz could hear the smile in her voice. It was enough for him to let it slide. “Next time, I’ll have Wylan keep count for you.”
“No need. Next time, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll hover over his shoulder and count how many pins he’d use? Wouldn’t that be tiresome?”
Not if it was for you. “I wouldn’t hover… I’d braid your hair myself. It isn’t that challenging… you’d just have to have… a plan.” The more pins he took out, the easier it became for him to find them. It was just like stealing money from a child.
“You’d braid my hair?” Inej’s voice was soft. Delicate. Kaz barely ever heard that tone.
“If you’d let me.”
“I’d let you,” she replied instantly.
Kaz began to smile.
The last pin was gone. There were twenty-five pins. Perhaps three too many. Two braids fell from Inej’s hair, falling all the way down to her waist. Out of instinct, Inej took one of them and put it over her shoulder to get it out of Kaz’s way. But the movement was enough to shock him into a new sort of reality.
He was unbraiding her hair. He was unbraiding her hair. Could he have done this a year ago? No, he couldn’t. The idea nearly rocked him off his feet.
“Do you… do you want me to…” he cleared his throat to stop himself from stuttering. His own skin felt uncomfortable on his body. “Do you want me to keep unbraiding your hair?”
“Would you like to?”
Absolutely. “Fine.”
He took the band out of the bottom of her braid and slowly undid it. It was easy work, and while he knew it didn’t require too much precaution, he worked slowly anyways, examining the way each strand of hair felt on his fingertips and the way Inej’s shoulders melted. She didn’t seem to mind how long he was taking—out of anything, she looked like she enjoyed it.
His eyes flickered to the back of her head, his mouth going dry. He could see the back of her neck. When was the last time he ever saw the back of her neck, if ever? And was it supposed to look so… kissable?
Was unbraiding hair supposed to be this intimate? Kaz could see the wisps of hair behind Inej’s neck, barely the length of a fingernail. He felt strangely unprepared, staring at the back of her neck like this. Was this too scandalous? Should he close his eyes?
You’ve done worse things, Brekker, he tried to reason, even as Inej adjusted her position on the bed. Kaz’s hands began to sweat. Get a grip, Brekker. You are the Bastard of the Barrel, you’re the leader of the Dregs, you’re-
“Kaz? Are you alright?” From the reflection of the vanity, Kaz could see her smiling. He turned away when her eyes met his in the reflection. “You’re taking an awfully long time.”
“You don’t rush a thief, Inej,” he replied coolly. With one hand, he held her hair so it wouldn’t slip back over her neck (he wasn’t done examining it—she had a little mole near the nape of it) and used the other to adjust the mirror. He leaned over her shoulder, his shirt brushing against her, Inej moments away from his arm. Gently, he lifted vanity up ever so slightly. If he caught Inej looking at him, it might be his undoing. “Not unless you want the job to be done sloppily.”
“Oh, yes. We can’t let you have that sort of reputation.” Inej adjusted the mirror back down. “Although, I don’t think there’s anything sloppy about you… except your room.”
Kaz glared at the back of her head. “Leave my room out of this.”
She chuckled, and her eyes crinkled. “If that’s what you wish.”
I would tidy up for you. If you wanted. Kaz bit his tongue. He knew better than to be a sap.
“If it bothers you that much, clean it up yourself,” Kaz replied.
“There’ll be other reasons for me to visit your room, you know.”
Kaz swallowed a lump in his throat.
Then he went back to work.
Years ago, Kaz wouldn’t be able to do this. He wouldn’t have been able to touch Inej’s hair or be this close to her without hyperventilating or falling over. Inej had told him once that he looked like he was drowning, and he hated how much he agreed with her.
The water of the dead hadn’t disappeared. He’d be a liar if he let himself think that. There were moments when he felt decaying skin brush against his arm in passing, or his hands felt like prunes after long days of work. He still heard whispers from his brother in his sleep, and he still heard the ocean rumbling in the back of his mind when the air was knocked out of him and he forgot what it meant to breathe.
The only difference now was that he could resurface. Some days were better than others. He had people that were willing to pull him ashore—Inej, Wylan, Jesper, Nina (if she was in a good mood), Inej—and were willing to put up with him on nights where he decided that being alone wasn’t good enough for him. Jesper and Wylan humored him by allowing him to plan heists in their parlor at strange hours, Nina (when she would visit, but she was not a fan of Ketterdam) was a distraction in her own right considering she never knew when to stop talking, and Inej was… Inej, always optimistic and hopeful, always open minded and firm. They all helped, even if he would rather be stabbed fifty times than admit it.
But it was Inej who helped him the most. Even when she was out at sea, Kaz felt her hand guiding him down the path of recovery, and maybe in her eyes, redemption.
It’s been a year or so since Inej first set sail, and Kaz was still unsure if he knew what the word ‘redemption’ meant.
Maybe it was this. Maybe it was moments like these, with Inej’s hair in his hands and Wylan and Jesper singing who knows what in the background, that brought him one step closer to being a man. Not a good man, or even just decent, but a man all the same. He was taking whatever he could get, not just for Inej or for the others, but for himself, too.
Maybe that’s what redemption was. The feeling in his chest that told him the world was not over. Not yet. He had life in him still, and he was still breathing, still kicking, and he was still here. Maybe the beginning of redemption was the lack of water pooling around his ankles.
Or maybe it was Inej’s smile.
Whatever it was, he was taking it all like the thief he was. And somehow, he didn’t feel like a criminal doing it.
With half of Inej’s hair unbraided, he scooped it over her shoulder and moved on to the other one, watching her free hair move like ripples in a wave.
“What are you thinking about?” Inej asked.
“You.”
She rolled her eyes, moving the braid in his hands with her. “I’m being serious, Kaz.”
“And you thought I wasn’t?”
“Can you blame me? Half the time you’re thinking about heists or kruge or the Dregs-”
“You’ve made your point,” Kaz interrupted. “Fine. I was thinking about how I should steal Wylan’s precious chandelier in the dining room.”
“I don’t think Wylan would mind. I think Jesper would be more offended than him.”
“Even better.” Inej chuckled. “Maybe it’d fit in my office. Or in your captain’s quarters.”
“Oh, no, absolutely not.”
“Where would you put it, then?”
“Maybe in Van Eck’s prison cell. I think that would really… liven up the mood.”
“That isn’t an awful idea,” Kaz mused. “You should put it in there yourself. Give him a little scare.”
A small smirk grew on Inej’s face, and Kaz only caught it because of the mirror’s reflection. “That could be fun… I could send him our… regards.”
“I like the sound of that.” The rest of the braid fell apart in his hands, much to Kaz’s disappointment. He watched as Inej threw her hair over her shoulder and ran her hands through it, adjusting the mirror to get a better look at her face. “I never took you as someone to be so vain.”
“You’re one to talk. You’re the one who walks around in three piece suits.”
“It’s for my reputation. We can’t all walk around with big hats and a feather.”
“Once. I wore that hat once,” Inej laughed. She looked at him over her shoulder, her cheeks a soft, beautiful red and her eyes twinkling like stars. Kaz remembered when he could only dream of Inej looking at him like this, with love and adoration all over her face. Now she was right in front of him, the world theirs and ready for the taking. “Thank you for unbraiding my hair.”
“Of course.”
“Even though it took you an incredibly long time.”
“Oh, stop acting like you didn’t enjoy it,” Kaz teased. Inej tapped the space on her bed with a giddy smile, and Kaz was quick to join her. The bed dipped and made her lean more into him, and the feeling of her skin against his clothes didn’t phase him one bit. Out of anything, it was a comfort. How many comforts did Kaz have in his life? Not many.
“Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn’t. You will never know.”
“Tch. Whatever you say.” The two of them smiled, Kaz’s crooked and lopsided, while Inej was pure and serene. A canal rat and a sea captain, in one room together and so desperately, helplessly in love. If Kaz was in another mood, he’d have said it was the beginning of some sick joke. But tonight, it was the chorus in another ballad he kept close to his heart. “Did you know you have a mole on the back of your neck?”
“What?” Inej swept her hair to one side of her shoulder. “No, I didn’t. Where?”
“Here.” Slowly, just in case Inej wanted him to stop, he leaned forward and kissed the spot on her neck with a small smile. A part of him wished he could see Inej’s face—warmth spread through her neck as he kissed her, and he could only imagine what she looked like. “Does that help?”
“I… yes,” Inej replied. “Thank you.”
“Of course… of course…” Kaz leaned forward once again, and after one long, deep breath, he pressed another kiss onto her cheek. Her skin felt warm and soft, completely and utterly alive. When he looked at her again, she was still smiling. Thank Ghezen she was smiling.
“Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?” Inej asked him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you and what have you done to Inej Ghafa? She would have been impressed by my intense amount of valor.”
“Who’s to say I’m not?”
“And who’s to say I’m not Kaz Brekker?”
She looked away, moving the hair out of her face and leaning into him. “I suppose you have a point.”
“I always do.”
“Don’t push it.” Inej turned once again to face him, her eyes half opened and her hand gently resting on his. “You missed a spot, earlier.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Me? Never,” Kaz replied with a cocky smile. “You don’t mean when I kissed you, did you?”
“I do, I do.”
“Well, I can’t imagine where I missed.”
“Then let me show you.”
“Gladly.”
And so she did.